The Safe Bet (Hidden Truths #1)(35)

She did something he didn’t expect. Without a hint of modesty, Kate slipped out of her red thong and let it fall to the floor. She stood before him wearing nothing more than a look of deep hunger in her eyes.

A look of acceptance—giving herself over to the moment. To their need for each other. A need that had thrown him off guard the moment she spilled her drink on him.

A blazing need that went beyond his normal primal desire to screw.

He groaned before lunging toward her, his hands practically ravaging her body, wanting to touch every inch of her. He grazed her lips with his teeth and tugged at her bottom lip. “I want you so fucking much,” he said with a throaty voice. He swooped her into his arms and carried her to the master suite.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains closed, and the comforter lay rumpled at the bottom of the bed. He set her down on the black silk sheets. She lay before him, naked and ready. He hastily peeled off his T-shirt and removed his pants and boxers, freeing himself.

He positioned himself over Kate, staring down at her body. “You’re so sexy.”

As he leaned in to kiss her again, he felt her soft fingertips touch his chest.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. She ran her fingers over his pectoral muscles and abdomen, circling each of his three bullet wounds with her finger tip.

Reality was settling, heavy and thick. Michael’s pulse ticked at his neck, and the muscles in his face strained. He had been in such a hurry that he’d forgotten about his scars. They were scattered over his chest: one just below his ribs, another by his shoulder, and a third dangerously close to his heart. Kate seemed fixated on the last.

He cursed himself for a fool. His friends had died in battle, and yet, women thought these bullet wounds were hot. He usually wore a shirt during sex to hide the evidence of injury. But tonight, with Kate, he had forgotten. He looked down into Kate’s eyes and was surprised to see them glistening. Was she going to cry?

“I didn’t realize it was that bad. I didn’t know you were hurt like that.”

He rolled off of her and squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear the gunshots splicing through the air, loud and sharp. He balled his hands into fists.

He tried to silence the memories, but they assaulted him with deadly force. His heart hammered in his chest when her hand rested on top of his. His eyes flashed open, and he stared at her. “I’m sorry.” He pushed off the bed and grabbed his sweats and pulled them on.

She reached for his bed sheet and covered her body. “Did I do something wrong?”

He looked down at the gorgeous woman in his bed, wondering why he was thinking of Afghanistan when he should have been thinking of all the ways he was going to get her off. “No, of course not, but I let myself get carried away. We shouldn’t do this.” Did he sound convincing? “I don’t want to be an asshole,” he bit out.

“I don’t understand.” She rose to her feet, pulling his bedsheet with her.

“You’re being stalked. The timing of this—it’s not right.” He folded his arms and leaned against his tall, mahogany dresser. He forced his eyes to look past her, pulling armor down over his sight.

“And maybe I need this. I want to forget for a few moments that I’m Kate Adams, the woman who doesn’t do one-night stands and has to have everything planned down to the minute. I’m not Kate Adams, the woman who is being stalked—who lost her mom at birth.” She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I just be Kate tonight? The Kate who wants to sleep with you?”

He looked away from her, toward the double doors that led back into the hall. He was trying to remain steadfast, but he was losing his resolve. She looked captivating in only his bed sheet. His sheets would never look the same. “I had no intention of sleeping.” He directed his eyes back on hers.

The mood in the room shifted as his concern over her stalker found its way to the backseat, and his desire fought to resume control. He beheld her with heavy, lidded eyes, but he remained firm in his stance, arms crossed. “No. We just can’t.” And his indecision was making him ready to claw at his skin in frustration.

“Shouldn’t it be me who decides what I can and can’t handle tonight?” She tilted her head to the side and bit her lip.

“I don’t do relationships, Kate. I fuck.” He was crass on purpose—needing to push her away, to keep her safe from him.

His eyes narrowed and focused on her mouth . . . but she was making him forget the gunshots. Forget Afghanistan. “My stance on dating hasn’t changed, and that should be reason enough for us not to get back in that bed together.” He shook his head. “I don’t normally care. I go for what I want—I’ve been after you all week. But tonight . . . what’s happening to you is a game changer.”

“So, let me get this straight. Up until the discovery of my stalker, you were willing to screw me with little regard for my feelings and the aftereffects, but now—now your moral compass is suddenly pointed in the right direction?” She arched her shoulders back, and her mouth opened, but no further sound came out.

“Basically.”

Kate took a step closer to him. “You’re a jerk,” she said, glaring at him. “At least when it comes to women, that is.” When she left his room, the dark sheet trailed after her, swishing against the floor.

He forced himself to look away. His hard-on was growing painful, and he had been seconds away from ignoring his brain and grabbing Kate. He could still smell her delicious scent on his body. He had to find a way to forget the way her mouth tasted and ignore the way her body had felt beneath his.